When I was your age the world was a different sort of place. It was quieter. There was no rush to get from place to place, folks took their time doing things. Childhoods were slow and sunny. We didn't rush to grow up the way you new children do. It wasn’t some sort of race to us. We took our time out in the sun, and the rain to grow and learn at our own pace. We didn’t worry about how we were going to be when we were fully grown, all that mattered was making it through fine and healthy for the present.

When I look at you all I watch you fighting for your sunlight, trying to be so much when you’re in someone’s bigger shadow. Trying to grow up sooner than everybody else because being older means getting a life faster. Don’t you see that you’re already living? Why are you rushing like this? Don’t be so hasty to speed through your time, we only have so much.

But I have to remind myself the world has changed since I was your age and we can’t all afford to keep sauntering along at our own pace. This neighborhood was so much more open so many summers ago.  We had a lot of room to be ourselves. We didn’t worry about how we looked so obsessively. But looking down at you all now, all of you are so crowded together. Sibling squished next to sibling. So many of you on top of each other all watching your every move. It’s no wonder you're in such a rush to get out of there. It’s no wonder you all are listening to the whispers of the one next to you thinking the best way is one way and the best look is this one. Tall and slender, short and stocky. There are all so many of you trying to figure yourselves out. You’ve got to remember nobody is meant to look the same. You’re all so tangled up trying to grow but there’s no room for you to breathe. Not when you’ve got so many others breathing down your necks like this.

Don’t you worry about the little troubles when you’re young. You don’t get a thick bark like mine without a reason. I’ve lived through trouble and time and that's how I’ve gotten my place here, looking down over you all. I’ve stood here through decades of winters with branches held high. I’ve watched this forest traverse the seasons, flora and fauna come and go. You’re only saplings now. Your branches aren’t meant to hold the weight of a winter on your limbs so soon. You’ll grow out of the underbrush in time.